Reflections
by HeartMuses
Summary: Draco Malfoy didn't want to kill Albus Dumbledore. He had managed to stall the operation for nearly an entire year, each of his previous attempts to execute it ending in near disaster and he couldn't delay any longer. But on the night that he had arranged for task to be completed, he stumbles upon a strange mirror in the Room of Requirement...


The steady sound of my footsteps echoed through the Room of Requirement as I paced, the beat of my own heart ringing in my ears. This was precisely what I had begun to fear over the last year: being left alone at the mercy of my own thoughts. The reality of what I was about to do was consuming me, paralyzing me.

I could not do this. There was no way that I could possibly follow through with my assignment. I simply could not look Albus Dumbledore in the eyes and murder him. Sure, I hadn't been the young prodigy that he had found in Potter, sometimes I doubted that he even knew who I was, but he was my headmaster nevertheless. But I had to do this. If I didn't, Voldemort would kill me.

"Maybe it would be better that way," I caught myself whisper out loud, causing a tightness to grow in my chest. No. That was absurd. Besides, it wasn't just me that was in danger. If I backed down, my parents would also be forced to feel the wrath of the Dark Lord. But after all, it was my father's fault that I was in this situation in the first place. He was the reason for the target placed on my back.

Who was I to kid? This was all my fault. If only I had the courage to stand up to my parents, to nearly everyone I knew, I wouldn't be in this situation. I could not blame anyone else for my own weakness. Potter was right. I was a coward.

I glanced around at the strange assortment of forgotten objects that surrounded me in a poor attempt to distract myself. A flicker of movement caught my eye, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. I looked to my side to find a pair of grey eyes staring back at me from the large, ornate mirror several feet away. It looked ancient and well-worn, balanced on a pair of clawed feet. In all the time that I had spent here, I had never noticed it before.

I took a few steps forward and raised my wand, the glow from the tip illuminating the golden frame amidst the darkness. An inscription appeared to be etched into it, " _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi"_. I read it over and over in my mind, but nothing registered. As far as I was concerned, it was merely a random jumble of letters failing to form words.

My eyes moved to rest on my own reflection. At first, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. Those grey eyes were glistening with a foreign happiness, something that I hadn't seen in a long time. Most notably, they weren't marred by dark circles.

Those could not be my own eyes. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in what felt like ages. When my nights weren't spent here working to mend the Vanishing Cabinet, I was constantly kept up by my raging thoughts and fears. This was something that I was strangely okay with though because on the odd occasion that I did fall asleep, my rest was fitful and plagued by vicious nightmares.

My body didn't look like mine either. In my preoccupation with the task I had to complete, I had made a habit of skipping meals to sneak up to the seventh floor to continue my efforts. Eventually, my ceaseless worry caused me to lose my appetite entirely and I lost a considerable amount of weight. My mirrored counterpart, however, was rather fit and appeared to be healthy.

I glanced down at my own hands, which had become almost skeletal. Slowly and shakily, I reached for the left sleeve of my robes and pushed it back and revealing my pale forearm. The black symbol that glared up at me made me feel sick to my stomach. Simply looking at it was enough to make it prickle painfully.

I swallowed hard and looked back at the mirror. The arm in my reflection was bare, the Dark Lord's Mark completely absent.

"What is…" I muttered to myself, but my voice broke off when I noticed the figures standing behind me. "Father?"

I instinctively turned around to look at him, but nobody was there. I looked into his face in the mirror. He was smiling. I could not remember the last time that I had seen him smile. His hand rested firmly on my shoulder, a prideful look in his eye. He was actually proud of me. At his side stood my mother, also smiling.

A sudden fluttering filled my chest. It felt as though my heart had risen into my throat and was suffocating me slowly. It was a feeling like nothing I had ever experienced before. My heartbeat rang in my ears, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

What was this strange mirror? What it was showing me, I had no idea. All that I knew was that the life that stood in front of me was one that I would kill for.

No, I wouldn't. I would not kill.

My wand turned over and over in my fingers nervously, a habit that I had taken to a long time ago. I brought my gaze down to it and tried to refocus my mind and steady myself in reality. My hand was visibly shaking as I attempted to suppress the raging fear that continued to grow inside of me. I had a job to do. My family was depending on me.

I thought back to the night that I had learned of my assignment, to the tearful look in my mother's eyes. "The Dark Lord requires your service," she had told me, a waver of fear in her hushed voice. Through all of this, she had been my motivation. I simply could not allow myself to disappoint her. Even now, when I wanted nothing more than to run away and abandon all of this, seeing her smiling face in the mirror before me spurred me onward.

 _It's just two words_ , I told myself, _two simple words and it will all be over._

A sudden bang echoed through the dark room, causing me to jump in surprise, followed by a very familiar creak. The Vanishing Cabinet.

"Draco!" a harsh voice called out.

I turned slowly to see a figure clamoring out of the Cabinet. "Mr. Yaxley," I called back, trying desperately to swallow my nerves. This was it. It was time.

One by one, I watched as my accomplices climbed through the wooden fixture: Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle, and Gibbon. They were all easily twice my size, an evilly eager grin spread across every face. To my absolute horror, one more figure began to emerge as I glanced around at the group. Fenir Greyback. This was not a part of the plan. The werewolf, though the Dark Lord seemed to trust him, absolutely terrified me. A new fear now coursed through my veins. If I didn't complete the task to his satisfaction or showed any sort of hesitance, he would ravage me on the spot.

"Ready?" Yaxley asked sternly.

I drew a long and deep breath. There was no backing down. "Ready," I said shakily.

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